The DUFF Page #3

Our entire friendship was a sham,

and everyone knew but me.

Hey, B, will you take a look

at my fashion piece?

I need a layman's opinion.

You're aware I'm a woman, right?

What? Oh, no.

"Layman," it's just a phrase.

I just mean you're not a fashion expert.

Oh, so I have bad style?

Whoa, someone's in a mood. Lighten up.

Lighten up? Because I'm so heavy?

Is there a problem?

Outside.

How could you guys not tell me

this whole time that I was your DUFF?

- Our what?

- Your Designated Ugly Fat Friend.

Yeah, yeah. Wesley told me everything.

He can't even spell. That's actually

pretty creative for Wes.

Since when do you care

what Wesley Rush says?

He says crazy stuff all the time.

Because it makes sense.

I mean, why else would two

super hot, popular girls

wanna be friends with somebody like me?

It's because you're using me

to make yourselves look better.

Okay, just because you think one of us

is better-looking than you...

Oh, my God. There it is, there it is.

You know what? No, no, no.

I'm glad you said that,

because it makes what I'm about

to do a whole lot easier.

Yeah, go ahead and check them.

Did you just unfriend me?

You bet your ass I did.

Well, fine.

Then I am taking you off of Instagram.

Well, hallelujah, okay?

I don't have to look at pictures of your

artisanal cappuccinos every morning.

How dare you? You love those

foam faces. They're foam-tastic.

Look, we're going through

something over here.

Guess what else.

Unfollowed y'all on Twitter.

Oh, perfect. No more of Bianca's

almost-ironic tweets for the day.

Oh, that's rich, coming from this guy,

who's RT'ing them all day long.

They're pity RT's.

You know what?

I'm taking you off of my

We Heart It and my Vine feed.

Oh, great, because

I don't like your loops, okay?

And you know what else?

I'm blocking your ass on Tumblr.

And you, you're off my Snapchat.

Well, fine.

- Fine.

- Fine.

I'm a free woman.

And don't you dare be creeping

on my Pinterest, whores.

I'm so sorry, Susan.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Wes had made me

see the school differently,

and I wasn't happy about it.

It didn't matter what group

you were in, it was unavoidable.

Even if you weren't in a group,

like Creepy Carrie Raskowitz.

I'm my own best friend.

Did any of these people know where

they stood in the social hierarchy?

Cool socks.

Really dig them.

I wanna make out with your face.

Good, because my face wants you

to make out with it.

Socks?

They...

What the...?

I never knew

why I couldn't talk to Toby.

Now I did.

Because, like everyone else in school,

he knew what I was.

And subconsciously I knew it too.

It was all so easy for Wes.

Look, I'm no wine expert,

but I'm pretty sure

you mix red and white, you get rose.

- He could talk to anyone.

- Wesley.

Back to work.

Take a seat, Mr. Rush.

That's your third F. I don't know

what's going on with you.

But the principal and I talked

and we decided

until you get your grades up,

you're suspended from the team.

Well, can't we talk

to Coach Grant about it?

Yeah, Coach Grant agrees

with my decision.

Okay, okay, look,

I can't lose my scholarship.

It's the only way I can

get into college.

I wish you would've thought

of that before.

You want me to what?

I don't wanna be anybody's

DUFF anymore, okay?

I wanna be my own person.

I'm tired of being the approachable one.

I wanna be the dateable one.

You're asking me for dating advice?

Today of all days? Are you kidding me?

Look, I have a crush on this boy.

His name's Toby Tucker.

Maybe you've heard of him.

Well, I can't seem to talk to him

without making a total ass

of myself, okay?

And you never seem to have this problem.

- Don't you hate me?

- I'm glad you asked. Yes, I do.

But only because you're a dipshit

and a man-whore.

But you're the only one

in this whole school

who told me what was actually going on.

So you're an honest dipshit,

and that's what counts.

- Thanks?

- Can we just...?

Can we just cool it for a second?

Okay, here's my offer.

I will make sure you pass science

if you help me with this.

I mean, you got the easy part.

You could pass science in your sleep.

I have to reverse-DUFF you.

Are you wearing pajamas?

Oh, my God.

You know, I get it Wesley, okay?

I'm disgusting. I'm a swamp thing.

- I'm a regular Bela Lugosi.

- Who?

I can't even believe I thought that

I could ask you something like this.

Just forget it.

You know, have fun playing intramural

Wii golf this season, dick face.

Okay, okay, okay.

Come here.

Look, I'm an idiot.

And idiots don't exactly

give great advice.

Well, look at it this way.

It's not like you could make me

any more awkward, right?

That's true.

See? Idiot.

So, you'll do it?

- Yeah.

- Yes.

On one condition.

You gotta ask me in monster voice.

- Wesley. Monster voice?

- Yeah.

From when we were little?

No, I don't... I don't remember it.

- You sure?

- Yes, I don't...

- I couldn't even...

- Okay.

Bianca need Wesley help.

Please, Wesley, help Bianca?

- There you go.

- That's not bad. You still got it.

So easily amused.

- We got a deal?

- Yeah.

- I was just going low, that's all.

- Just...

- Yes. All right.

- Okay.

So, you have to pass

the chemistry midterm, okay?

- So, we'll focus on that first.

- Yeah.

And where do we start with me?

- The mall, noon, Saturday.

- All right, cool.

Will there be a lot of walking, though?

Because I'll wear my Shape-ups.

Having some...

Text me.

I was nervous, relying on

the school Neanderthal,

but what was the worst he could do?

- Are you kidding me with this?

- I'm not.

Wes, if I wanted to go shopping

and talk about girly stuff,

I could've done that

with Jess and Casey.

- I need you to give me real talk.

- Real talk?

You got a uniboob, your posture sucks,

and your clothes fit weird

because you wear the wrong size bra.

Boom, real talk.

I watch a lot of Project Runway.

What's up?

Step one:
first impressions matter,

so take some pride in your appearance.

Ladies, this is Bianca.

Take good care of her. I'm gonna

get the hell out of this section.

Wes, no, don't go.

- What do you think?

- Hey, look at those.

- You... You look great.

- Thanks. That's enough.

- Well, I know my b*obs.

- Okay.

- Can we leave?

- Definitely not.

We've got the whole place.

We are just getting started.

Step two:
time to show the world

who you are.

The truth is, I don't know

who you are from your clothes, okay?

You need to start dressing more

like you, and less like Wreck-It Ralph.

- Fine.

- Dressing rooms are back there,

and maybe try on a new attitude

while you're at it.

Get in there.

Can we please just make this quick?

Okay, next.

- Try to keep it in your pants.

- Next.

- Nope.

- This one might be my favorite yet.

It's not that bad.

Okay, perfect. Hold that pose.

Are you filming me?

Game tape, for review.

This is what you look like

when you're not overthinking things,

actually having some fun.

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